


there's a poison it holds (but you color my way in)

by call_me_mick



Category: Anne of Green Gables - L. M. Montgomery, Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: And I love it so, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Mutual Pining, honestly this is the only fandom that has pulled me to engage in it actively, i edit this a lot bc u know insecurities so lol, i hope u like it tho, i really want to feed on my need for angst, i've only written academic essays recently so it might be a little didactic, im sorry for the excessive use of em-dashes and italizations lol, offering my entire body and soul to lucy lmao, so I wrote this, the last time i've written any creative work was four years ago lol, there'll prob be a lot of run-ons bc ya girl cant write creatively lmao, this my first fanfic ever lmao, with all my love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-01
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-05 11:26:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15862680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/call_me_mick/pseuds/call_me_mick
Summary: 'Because of several circumstances—namely Ruby, Josie Pye, Billy Andrews, that awful “you know Gilbert has a crush on you, right?” supplied with the ever so prominent "no one will ever want you", Anne decided it was best not to develop further intimacies with the boy with soft, brown eyes; a challenging intellect; and a warm, welcoming soul all together.'Of which Anne is terribly scared of her budding relationship with the one and only Gilbert Blythe.





	there's a poison it holds (but you color my way in)

**Author's Note:**

> the title are from these songs: lost by liza anne & colour me in by damien rice  
> (listen to it in this order if u want)  
> 01\. [lost](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XkOJkhVKoE0) / liza anne  
> 02\. [howling](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sVsnxChEofs) / cathedrals  
> 03\. [love](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XM_zMY1XUIs) / daughter  
> 04\. [these days](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cbhDj_Hhfzs) / wet  
> 05\. [colour me in](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pn_4bOug-H8) / damien rice  
> here's the [spotify playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/f5eefzkqwyf9wy4f1hq7zk6qk/playlist/14y48paSE9NGhen5j2ONGF?si=dXaNlzVzTP6xDwurrbY3uQ) lmao
> 
> this has been influenced by of course my lovelies [swishandflickwit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/swishandflickwit/pseuds/swishandflickwit) (special thanks to u my darling girl for pre-reading it before it's posted bless your heart for your validations i was so scared at first but seeing u so enthusiastic about it warmed my heart so much i cant even describe it i hope u have a wonderful life you beautiful angel bless your heart and soul forever with all my love) & [humanlighthouse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Humanlighthouse/pseuds/Humanlighthouse) (just hmu if u want someone to talk to yes babe with all my love) and my irl friends for always supporting my fangirl moments even if they can't relate to it 
> 
> but also because of [lil_redhead](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lil_Redhead/pseuds/Lil_Redhead), [ashleykay](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashleykay/pseuds/ashleykay), [curiousnymph](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuriousNymph/pseuds/CuriousNymph) , and [dani](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dani/pseuds/Dani) (pls note that they aren't just my favorite authors yes it's just because they've focused on angst with anne's pov), your works have ruined me and i love u so lmao

_He’s staring again_ , Anne couldn’t refrain from noticing as she sat alone with Gilbert Blythe, patiently waiting for Miss Stacey to reappear from their school house’s storeroom to further instruct their extra, morning classes—or so she assumed. _He’s always staring these days_ , Anne continued, with her eyes remaining fixed at the empty seats that appeared desolate and abandoned without the youthful laughter filling the walls of their compact classroom. Her eyes were particularly fixated on the vacant fourth row seat on the right corner of the room of whom its former occupant, about half a year ago, had cunningly announced the dreaded assertion of Gilbert Blythe’s (not-so-secret) affections for her. Try as she might, it was becoming increasingly difficult to disregard Cole’s ridiculous notion since she had been finding herself associating with the boy in question, more often than she would hope. Nevertheless, she tried to bury that dreadful possibility, and resumed her exchanges with Gil—or rather—with Mr. Blythe as respectable as she could keep. Despite her hopes of preserving a polite and reserved relationship with Gilbert Blythe, the main problem kept appearing with every longing glance this _dumb, foolish, idiotic—_

“Anne,” he called, louder than his earlier attempts. Louder—yes, but the desperation in his voice had kept her from ignoring him any longer. She occasionally had to reprimand herself from being unable to resist answering his calls, often even finding herself equating the same tenderness that escaped those gentle eyes. The same tenderness, the same delicacy, the same yearning, but in the following seconds, she would remember herself, just as she would remember herself now.

“What is it that you need, Mr. Blythe?” she replied, now browsing her reader boringly, and silently pleased with the convincing tone she had executed after years of studying Marilla’s authoritative disposition. The boy, however, frowned at her callous response, and refused to accept such cold behavior. Thus, before she could even voice her complaints, he had already stood from his stool, and had intruded Anne’s thoroughly-aligned barrier by kneeling before her. This particular act reminded her of his infuriating attempts with the apple, and that despicable name-calling, but before she could even grab hold of her slate, Gilbert Blythe— _the nerve of this boy_ —had already snatched her belongings, leaving her with only her hands clasped tightly together to refrain any repeats of violent acts.

“Anne,” he repeated, but the anguish in his voice is more compelling than usual, forcing Anne to lock blue with brown, without her usual reservations in tow. “Anne, have I done something wrong? If I have—please, do tell me. _Please_.”

A rumor had been crafted by the wretched Josie Pye, and had been circulated among their peers with Anne—being the trollop that she was as Mrs. Harmon Andrews had graciously labelled before—only exploiting Gilbert Blythe’s affections, nay, _cordialities_ to redeem her status as more than a vulgar, orphan trash after their relationship had blossomed because of Gilbert’s regular visitations to Green Gables during the two months Anne was away from school because of a dare that had led to Anne falling off the ridgepole of the Barry's kitchen roof. However, seeing Gilbert pleading as his life depends on it did not derived any form of pleasure for Anne. She suspected it wounded her more than it was hurting him. They had finally become friends—real friends, not just academic rivals who would start a competition at every given opportunity, nor mere classmates who barely exchange a single word to each other unless it was friendly banter— _friends_ , of which Anne had such a few of. But because of several circumstances—namely Ruby, Josie Pye, Billy Andrews, that _awful “you know Gilbert has a crush on you, right?”_ supplied with the ever so prominent _“no one will ever want you,”_ Anne decided it was best not to develop further intimacies with the boy with soft, brown eyes; a challenging intellect; and a warm, welcoming soul all together.

“I’m not sure I follow, Mr. Blythe,” she stood firm with her gaze and tone, completely different from the girl six months back who would had brought an abundance of complications, even if it were in her best interests. “But if you would please return to your seat. I’m certain Miss Stacey will remark on your inattentiveness and persistent disruptions to my studies,” she continued, refusing to falter even with the boy’s shoulders dropping, and his hands beginning to shake, “thank you.”

Gilbert opened his mouth in response, but closed it at once, seeing as it was useless trying to reason with a resolute Anne. Thus, he nodded absentmindedly, and muttered an apology before returning to his seat. Although she found herself relieved, with Gilbert’s distance finally allowing her to take a breath, the heaviness in her heart appeared to be impossible to overlook, where such an indescribable weight was causing unwanted tears to form, but the reappearance of Miss Stacey helped her recover from that slight second of being tempted to bend her decision, and rekindle her friendship with Gilbert Blythe.

“Is something the matter?” Their schoolmarm addressed both her students, but was mostly directing her concern towards the brooding figure on her left, with his head down, and his dark curls covering most of his eyes. Anne took the initiative to clear the harrowing tension that was causing their teacher to fret, and offered a forced reassurance with a small smile. Miss Stacey, although hesitant to leave this conflict unresolved, was compelled to defer the topic at hand after the arrival of Moody Spurgeon stumbling across their foyer.  

 

☾

 

The following weeks supplied no unwelcomed advances from Gilbert Blythe, and it instilled a conundrum in Anne’s youthful heart. Although she was grateful for him respecting her space, she found herself missing her Gil— _Mr. Blythe, Mr. Blythe, Mr. Blythe!_ she kept chanting after she had bid her farewells to her dear bosom friend, for she and _Mr. Blythe_ were still expected to attend extra classes on some afternoons as well. _You have done so well, so please_ , she continued pleading to herself, for despite all the ache that she continually experienced whenever she catches those gentle brown eyes piercing into hers, with soft, melancholic smiles accompanying it—those nasty rumors had finally subdued. Josie Pye continued to be the bane of her existence, yes—along with her horrible, red hair which was thankfully restoring back to its original length, darker and thicker than before—but not something she found completely intolerable.

Alas, such seemingly peaceful affairs would always come to a halt. Miss Stacey had offered her most heartfelt apologies, and excused herself for the afternoon to run an important errand in Charlottetown. Their schoolmarm hastily tried to clean up after her other students had gone, but the two remaining students extended their services, so their teacher can leave without further delay. Thus, after Miss Stacey had showered them with her gratitude, and closed the doors behind her, the two began to arrange their classroom with the alleviating thought that perhaps the other person present was currently not in attendance. This practice helped both to accomplish their individual tasks until the only remaining effort was to return a few books to the storeroom. Before Gilbert could offer to claim the finishing arrangements, however, a sudden downpour came, and disrupted their restless silence.

“I suppose the heavens are poking fun,” Anne unmindfully proclaimed aloud, causing both to experience new sets of distresses—one cruelly rebuking her senselessness, and the other, confining his temptations for fear of overwhelming the girl once again. Recognizing her faults, Anne retreated to the far corner of the room, and yet again, fashioned an invisible barrier that would disallow any attempts from a certain boy with kind eyes and an alluring nature to lure her out of her resolution. Much to Anne’s displeasure, however, the foolish boy continued his _stares_. Those stares alone had stripped her down to every inch of her being, confining her into this ridiculous illusion he had for her. She was oblivious of the prospect of Gilbert Blythe’s developing affections—romantic affections, if she may add, for her in the beginning— _yes, that much is true_ —, but Cole, and even her darling Diana continually persuaded her to see the truth, the truth behind Gilbert’s feelings and her feelings as well— _but at what costs?_ Grasping these confessions and realizations had only brought impending doom to their budding relationship, a flouring relationship—a _beautiful relationship_ that would had possibly lived throughout decades after decades of their passing. But this foolish, foolish boy—this beautiful, foolish boy continued to ensnare her with his beauty. _Not to mention that constant staring_ , Anne added, growing more and more furious of the boundaries that they had to suffer because she wanted nothing in the world at the moment than to stare back at him, and experience the same glorious and unguarded passion they had shared months ago at that cafe, with him sitting across her, eyes locked to each other, and the whole world at their disposal for once. But silence began to envelop around their condensed space, with the sound of the rain gradually enclosing them—their distance growing more and more faint, and—

“WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS STARING?!” Anne suddenly snapped, finally having the courage to actually look at him, and discover a boy so far removed from the boy he was during their first meeting. Gone was the mischief in his eyes, and the charm in his smile. Gilbert Blythe was just as lost and desperate as she was feeling, and that broke her to tears, knowing she was one of the causes of his desolations.

“Anne,” he called so softly that it brought in more tears, but Gilbert was swift to kneel beside his goddess, his queen— _his Anne_. Although tempted to pull her hands into his, he stopped himself, and offered his handkerchief instead. Receiving it with no further complaints, she continued to cry, and allowed Gilbert to see her so exposed because she was just so tired—so, so tired of everything, and lacked the imagination of what to do about it for once. The rain continued to stream, leaving no trace of it from stopping, and Anne accompanied it with her tears, but before long, no more tears poured, and she found herself breathing steadily, with Gilbert still kneeling before her, as if he was ready to surrender his everything at her disposal.

“You’re an idiot, Gilbert Blythe,” she finally started, trying to ignore his trace from his now-damp handkerchief. Gilbert looked confused, as he should be, but she felt his relief, discovering that she was finally looking at him.

“I can’t argue with that,” Gilbert weakly snickered, ultimately having the courage to settle his hands on hers, the gesture appearing as though he was exposing his entire soul to her, “care to enlighten me though?”

She felt a heat within her as she absorbed his gentle—ever so gentle gaze, with their hands touching as if it belonged together— _but_ _not yet_ , Anne added, but she allowed such intimation to transpire them into the regions she had always kept hidden.

“Your presence is sometimes suffocating,” Anne whispered, and felt Gilbert pulling his hands away, but she tightened her hold, “even if you’re far away I can still feel your pull, and _it scares me, Gil_ ,”

The use of _that_ particular endearment startled both of them, for weeks had passed since she called him other than that distant label of ‘Mr. Blythe’, and it brought another wave of nerve to Gilbert, seeing as he was firmly grasping both her hands, and drawing it closer to his lips. Another rush of heat flowed through her body as she felt his lips carefully caress her skin.

“I’m scared too, but please—please, don’t pull away before we can even start,” his eyes drawing her closer and closer to him once more. Before Anne could offer a response, Gilbert tried to say something. Just as he was considering to uncover this revelation, he bore into Anne, trying to search for the right words, and realized that they were not entirely ready yet to hear such disclosure, so it remained unsaid. But they knew. They both _knew_. Thus, Anne offered a smile, and quietly repeated the lines _not yet_. “I'll stand by you, and we’ll help each other,” he proclaimed, his eyes watering, and Anne felt like she could hear his soul, “if you’ll allow me.”

Anne, for once, was at a loss for words. The decision for their relationship to blossom laid primarily with her, and her heart fluttered at the thought of how beautiful and reverent this person was. As the showers began to decline, she could finally hear the rhythmic beating of her heart— _of their hearts_ , and she knew by then that this was real, and it will be _beautiful_ , and were not beautiful things both her weakness and infinite joy? So she allowed this—whatever this will transcend into—to bloom, as she took his hands, and matched his delicacy in grazing her lips over his skin, silently reciting the vows that she had shaped while she played with Marilla’s bridal veil all those months ago, _I take you—matched to my intellect, proponent of my happiness, friend of my heart—to be my life mate_.

 _But not yet_ , repeated Anne, but behind the thought of them dancing together as equal partners through the years—it finally began.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm [tiredsosleeping](http://tiredsosleeping.tumblr.com/) on tumblr and i have lots of love to give so hmu if u want !
> 
>  
> 
> lmao i also make [video edits](https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCS-T5oquVXMGnIOr8y8W1Qw?view_as=subscriber) check it out if u want lol


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